


It's Easier to Lie

by SambliongPalpatine



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8355979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SambliongPalpatine/pseuds/SambliongPalpatine
Summary: Bruce made a mistake, he pushed Clark away and now he might be regretting his desicion...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm back with this fic, my first in the fandom thanks to a prompt hehe. It is unbetaed because I don't have one and yes, I'm searching for one so... feel free!  
> Now though, enjoy! I hope you like it (:

It has been a year since Clark came back from the dead, three months since he walked- since Bruce _pushed_ him- out of his life. It had hurt almost as much as when Clark had died, because of him by the way, though the man had forgiven him (of course he has). It had hurt like a bitch to watch him walk away but it had to be done because sooner or later he would have done it himself anyway and Bruce thought it was better sooner than later. Less heartbreak he had thought at the moment. Well, it’s easier to lie, no?  Yes, easier and painful.

Now Bruce lies on his bed at 3 am in the morning and sleep is evading him, again. So they didn’t say the hours before morning were the best ones to double think every decision you have made, every mistake you have made and to re-visit your memories (the happy ones were sometimes the more painful ones, like in his case) for nothing. And that’s what Bruce’s brain planed for tonight.

He made a big mistake, he knows, by pushing the other man away. A man that clearly was willing to weather every storm with him, that was willing to give him what he needed, wanted. And he had done just that by walking away, oh if he only knew that that wasn’t what Bruce had wanted, at all. Bruce was sure that he could make him come back; god knows there were nights when he was tempted to seek him out and ask him to come back to his life. He was certainly not going to do that though. Fuck, he so wants to do it but damn he’s not stubborn for nothing. So he stays in bed, closes his eyes and lets the memories flow his mind.

//

_When Clark found out about him being Batman_

It had been another boring day at the office so far and Bruce just wanted to go home already. His back injury was hurting (maybe due to his little rage fit from moments ago when he had thrown a glass against the wall) and he started to feel a wet spot on his dressing shirt, great he had pulled his stitches off and he was wearing white. Alfred was going to positively kill him. He takes off his suit’s jacket and was staring at his back on the mirror. Yesterday’s fight had been demanding and he had suffered some well-given punches and a slightly deep cut that was meaning to be a stab, if it hadn’t been for Superman.

“Sir?” his secretary calls from the other side of the door. “Mr. Kent is here to see you.”

Fucking hell, he had forgotten about the interview. “Tell him to come in, please. Thank you,” he stops his inspection, not seeing any red spot on his shirt so far. He turns to face the door when he hears the knob turning.

“Mr. Wayne, I hope you didn’t forget about our scheduled interview,” the journalist says as a manner of greeting.

Bruce snorts. “I certainly did not forget, Mr. Kent. Please come in and take a seat.”

The man did as he was told and sat down in front of Bruce, took out a small notebook and pushed up his glasses. A habit, Bruce supposes.

“Are the rumors true? Is your company facing impending bankruptcy?” the man asks seriously.

“Straight to the point, are we?” he chuckles, “No, Mr. Kent, that’s a faux rumor, thanks god. My company is as successful as always,” he turns to face the window behind his desk, his back to the reporter. “People love to talk about people more successful than they are and invent all sorts of gossip.”

“Huh.”

He was about to ask, irritation starting to bubble inside him at the rude answer, when a realization hit him.  He didn’t find a spot on his shirt because he looked to the wrong side of it. _Holy fucking hell._ He turns around quickly to find the man staring at him, clearly connecting the dots.

He clears his throat, not quite knowing what to expect now. “Mr. Kent…”

The man lets out a,,, _triumphant?_ Sort of laugh and smiles a little. “Do not worry, Mr. Wayne. I’ll take my leave now and you should see to that wound. Good day.”

The man stands up and walks away. When he is gone and the door closed, Bruce slams his head against the wall with a little too much force. “Ouch.”

_When he had broken down in front of Clark_

 It was sometime at night, it was raining and Bruce stood before his parents’ graves. He was dress in sweats and a black t-shirt, no socks nor shoes and his hair was plastered against his head and forehead, clothes clinging to his body.

“Why?! You could at least have let one of them live! Why both?!” he screams to the heavens, he was shacking and it was not just because of the cold rain seeping into his bones, also because of the anger, the pain and disdain he feels. He knew he could get pneumonia but he doesn’t care, he never cares in nights like this. Where the pain is unbearable, nights when he couldn’t keep it at bay. So he screams again until his lungs hurt.

His knees give up on holding him upright and he falls to the ground, his sobs wreck his body but it’s okay because it’s dark and no one is here to watch him fall apart. Tomorrow he will be back to being the Bruce Wayne he always was but right now… fuck it.

“Why, goddamnit? I was just a kid…”

“Bruce.”

A familiar voice says from behind, he ignores it. He doesn’t want to explain himself to the other man; most importantly he doesn’t want Superman, _Clark Kent,_ to see him like this. So he stays where he is and doesn’t move.

“Bruce,” he says softly, kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. Bruce still doesn’t move. “You shouldn’t be out here, in this rain. You’ll catch a cold.”

Bruce scoffs. “Who gives a damn if I do? I certainly don’t. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?” he doesn’t turn around while he speaks. He is still crying and sobs are still wrecking his body and he is shivering more violently.

Clark sighs. “I heard you scream. You sounded in so much pain… I couldn’t leave you like that.”

“Yes, you could have. You should have left me,” he replays quietly.

“No, Bruce. I couldn’t and I’m not going to leave you. Come on, let’s get you inside and get you warmed up.”

Bruce didn’t move an inch, he lies there, in the cold wet ground with his hands slackened at either side of him and his head bow down. “Please,” he whispers.

Clark doesn’t say anything and his hand has left Bruce’s shoulder. So when he thinks that the other man has left he is taken aback when he feels arms wrapping around him and pulling him up into the man’s arms.

He gasps and then looks at him annoyed. “Pit me down.”

Clark ignores him and starts walking again.

“Put me down, Clark!” he moves around trying to get back on his feet but the other man just tightens his grip on him and instead of walking he flies them back to the house, that way Bruce will have to stay put.

He will never admit to anyone that it felt nice to be carried in Clark’s strong and warm arms. When they land on the balcony he places Bruce back down so he can open de door and take them both inside.

“You know, I don’t appreciate being manhandled, much less in my own house,” he says with annoyance.

Clark just rolls his eyes and closed the door behind him. Bruce stood there, all soaked with his clothes clinging to his body and his hair plastered against his head. He was shivering and had his arms tightly around his middle, head bowed to avoid looking at Clark. Silence fell upon them and the other man went to the ensuite to retrieve some towels, how he knew where the bathroom is Bruce had no idea.

He was standing on the same position when Clark came back holding a fluffy beige towel, Bruce didn’t look at him.

“Here, let’s get you dry and warm,” he said while wrapping the towel around his body. “Though it would help more if you took off those wet clothes.”

Now Bruce’s head did shot up, eyes wide and he felt himself blushing, fantastic. The last thing he wanted was for this man to see him like this, weak and broken down. If there was something he hated was weakness, being weak in front of others. Especially so in front of someone that sure as hell did not know what being weak was. Maybe he was doing it for pity, and that was another thing Bruce despised.

“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” he says, pulling the towel tighter around him, as if he were trying to protect himself. “You don’t have weaknesses; you don’t know what being helpless, how being weak feels like. You’re so strong and perfect, and it’s unfair. That doesn’t’ give you the right to pity people for being weak…” he trails off.   

“Don’t be an idiot, Bruce. I’m not doing this because I pity you or because I think you’re weak. On the contrary, I always think of you as a strong person, having weaknesses doesn’t make you less strong, it only makes you human. And you are wrong in thinking that I don’t know what being weak or helpless feels like,” Clark says in a slow voice. He then places another towel around his head and began rubbing his hair dry.

Bruce stands still for a moment, staring at the floor and after he feels the towel leave his head he looks back up and nods a little in thanks.

“I’ll leave you to change into something more comfortable and warm, okay?” he says walking towards the door and Bruce realized that he was wet as well.

“Wait,” he says quietly but knows that the other hero would listen anyway. When Clark looks back at him he tosses the towel. “You dry yourself as well.”

After catching the cloth Clark leaves him alone and Bruce just stands there, still shivering but now for another reason. After a moment he walks slowly to his wardrobe and takes out a pair of black sweats and a long sleeved white t-shirt. While he undresses he looks at his reflection on the mirror and glares at himself, glares at his scars, his weakness, his _humanity_ and then puts the dry clothes on and with a shake of his head walks towards the bed and pulls the covers so he can climb in.

Some more minutes passes before he hears the door open and close again, he doesn’t turn to look because he already knows who it is. He starts when he feels Clark climbing into bed with him and stiffens when he feels himself being pulled closer into the other man’s arms. He wants to push away from him, ask Clark to leave, maybe even yell at him and say some snarky or witty comment but he doesn’t do any of that. Still there’s a part of his brain that is shouting for him to move away and he tries a little, just because.

“What the-?” he starts to say.

Clark tightens his hold around him. “Shut up, Bruce. Let me do this for you. Just sleep, okay?” he whispers against his hair and Bruce shivers a little.

He starts to relax bit by bit in Clark’s arms, just for today. He feels so warm and he is so strong and Bruce feels safe, something he doesn’t normally feel. Not since a long time ago. After a moment he closes his eyes and lets the exhaustion drag him into sleep.

And when he wakes up next morning Clark is gone.

_When Clark kissed him for the first time_

“What in the seven hells were you goddamn thinking?!” Bruce yells at Clark while taking his cowl off. He was angry, so damned angry that he was sure he could glare a hole into the alien’s chest.

Clark sighed tiredly and scratched the back of his neck. “Saving your ass, of course.”

Bruce scowled. “I don’t need bloody saving! I can save my own ass, but you- you always do that, always go ahead and do something fucking reckless!” Bruce kept yelling at him, his heart was beating so fast and he wasn’t sure anymore if it was only because of the anger or if there was another reason.

Clark rubbed his face and slumped against the wall, not looking at him directly. “Bruce, can we not do this right now? You’re fine, the others are fine, the civilians are also fine and so am I. I don’t see the point of this argument and I’m tired, so please…”

Bruce didn’t let him finish. “No, no, we are doing this right now goddamnit! Because you can’t go around putting yourself at risk! What if- what if you-“he couldn’t bring himself to finish that thought, it was still painful to think of him dying. He had bloody _died_ once already! But he seemed to have forgotten about it.

Clark apparently could read were his thoughts were going because he straightens himself up and walks towards him. “Bruce,” he says softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m not dying again. And if I do it would be worth it, saving the innocent will always be worth it. Now, I’m sorry if you don’t feel this way but I’m still not dying again, soon.”

Bruce could do nothing more than shake his head. “I can’t go through that again, Clark, none of us can,” he whispers and lowers his eyes to the floor.

The other man huffs a little laugh and touches his cheek gently. “You won’t go through that again, Bruce. Truss me a little, please?”

He looks back up at him and smiles a little thin lipped smile. “I trust you with my life, Superman.”

Clark smiles back and then does something that leaves Bruce shocked out of this world, he _kisses_ him. He kisses Bruce and his heart beats wildly and he hates it because he knows Clark can hear it. And even when a part of Bruce tells him to pull away another bigger part commands him to kiss back, and so he does. He wraps his arms around Clark’s shoulders and kisses him back with everything he has, the anger long forgotten.

 But then Clark pulls away abruptly and takes some steps back before the door to the room opens and Barry and Hal come in. Bruce surreptitiously touches his lips and glances at Clark with the corner of his eyes and catches him smiling a tiny happy smile his way.

 

_When Bruce got injured and Clark saved him_

Batman was running through the streets of Gotham chasing one of the badass crime lords who was threatening to release some new deadly virus into the pipes of the city, not a chance in hell he was gonna give this bastard a chance. He heard the sirens behind him so this meant he couldn’t beat the criminal into a bloody pile of goo, fantastic.

Batman came to a stop when he realized he had run into an alley with barley enough electricity and no way out. This was just his night, wasn’t it? Today he fought with everyone, his kids, some interns at day job, Alfred for god’s sake… Clark… but this was not the time to dwell on it. He stops and turns around to find the criminal and then someone jumps him from behind. He is _Batman_ for Christ’s sake, people don’t just jump him from behind, he kicks the man of off him and starts punching him. There is no time for an interrogation, police will handle that later.

He has his fist prepared to land another punch when he feels something piercing through his suit and stabbing him which was just fantastic, just what he needed really, he doesn’t make a sound of pain nor he moves away. Instead he takes a deep breath and lands the punch right on the man’s face. Because he is _Batman_ and no one stabs Batman without a punishment. The man lands unconscious on the floor, perfect for the GCPD to find him without a problem.

He manages somehow to climb to the roof of the building, barely being able to hold his footing but before he falls and smashes his face into the ground a pair of strong arms catches him.

“How… how did you-“he cuts himself, breathing was hard now and he felt consciousness slipping away.

“I heard your heartbeat,” the man, Superman, says looking down at him with concern.

“How… how romantic…” he smiles mockingly before darkness drags him down.

Bruce feels something soft and comfortable beneath his fingers, there was something warm around him, it felt nice, there was a faint antiseptic smell and also as if something had been burnt. Still, he was feeling fine, there was no pain and he was safe and lying down in something plush and warm. When he finally opens his eyes he realizes he is in his own bed, a bandage around his torso and the covers pulled just above his navel. He turns his head to the side and sees Clark on the chair, asleep. He smiles a little at the sight of the tall, broad man slumped against a chair that can’t be a comfortable place to sleep. Clark’s hand is lying on the bed, fingers slightly curled as if he had been holding something, Bruce places his own hand gently atop his and gives it the softest of caresses as if he didn’t want to wake him up. Which he ends up doing anyway.

“Bruce? Is everything okay? Are you in pain?” Clark asks in a hurry, clearly scanning Bruce up and down.

“Clark, you know how much I hate you doing that, I’m fine,” Bruce replies with a raspy voice. “How long have I been asleep?”

“I know, I’m sorry. Is just… I’m worried about you,” he answers, blushing and averting his eyes. “You were asleep for two days, Bruce,” he says that as if justifying his worry.

Bruce smiles fondly. “You don’t need to worry though, I’ve had worse.”

Clark huffs. “I know, that’s also the issue. I don’t want you to have worse, I know you getting hurt is unavoidable but-“

“Clark,” Bruce interrupts him, squeezing his hand a little. “These things can’t be avoided. You won’t be there each time to save me. I mean, I don’t even need saving. I will have worse still,” he says, trying to sit up.

Clark rushes him back down with his hands on his shoulders. “Don’t move or you’ll pull your stitches and that will do you no good.”

Bruce snorts. “I can’t lie here much longer, crime needs to be fought. My city needs protection, Clark.”

Clark sighs tiredly and rubs his brow. “Just rest and recover, please? I promise you that the crime will still be out there when you get better.”

He says it is such a low and concerned voice that Bruce can do nothing else but stare at him, Clark is looking intensely at the floor though. Bruce’s heart rate speeds up and he clears his throat and looks elsewhere.

“Okay, fine. You win but just for a couple of days, I can’t promise more than that,” he says in a low voice.

Clark smiles widely and looks at him. “That’s enough for me.”

“Good,” Bruce answers with a small smile of his own.

Silence invades the room for a moment where they are just staring intensely at each other. They haven’t got a moment alone since the kiss a week or so ago and they have avoided bringing that up for whichever reason. Now though, they were alone in Bruce’s room…

Clark brings a hand up to rest against his cheek and caresses it gently; gaze still locked with Bruce’s.

“Clark…” he starts to say.

“Later and he leans down and kisses him.

Bruce’s heart skips a beat and he inhales sharply which allows the other man to deepen the kiss. Bruce frees his hand from the man’s hold and wraps his arms around him, Clark floating above him to avoid pressing against him. Their breathings are heavy, Bruce’s heart is beating quickly and he is sure, even though he can’t hear it, that Clark’s is beating faster as well.

After a moment they pull away for Bruce to inhale deeply and start breathing normally again. “And here you were saying that I need to rest and recover,” he snorts.

Clark blushes and turns away. “You are right, I should probably go now.”

He floats away from the bed and stands near the balcony door, he turns to give Bruce a small smile and before flying through the door he rushes to peck Bruce one last time. “Get better and rest, please?”

He flies away before Bruce can say anything and he just stays there, staring at the window and touching his lips softly with his fingertips.

_I love you…_

_Now this is the last stop on memory train, it is a short a bittersweet one because, well it was the first and only time Clark had told him ‘I love you’ the words that had Bruce panicking and pushing the man away because he was scared…_

“Bruce.”

He was sitting behind the computer in the batcave when he hears his name whispered by that familiar and firm voice he liked so much.

“Clark, what are you doing here? I thought you were saving some monkeys in Africa or whatever,” he replies, smirking.

Clark huffs a laugh, his lips forming a small smile. “I was, saved some people from an earthquake in Mexico too, also some idiots trying to climb K2. Got back a little while ago and thought I should come say hi.”

Bruce eyes him intently, in all honesty he had missed the man, more than he would have liked but he was not about to admit that out loud. “Hi,” he says instead.

Clark sighs and smiles fondly. “I see this is not a good moment so I’ll go now. Call me when it’s a better time.”

He turns around and starts to fly away.

“Clark, wait,” he says suddenly, not really knowing what to say. Clark stops mid air and turns his head to look at him over his shoulder, expectantly. “I… I’m glad you’re back.”

Clark only smiles briefly and flies away. 

They were lying in bed after having sex, they have had sex before, _a lot_ but this time felt different. It had been more… tender, more careful and slow, Clark had touched him almost like- no, Bruce shakes his head, not wanting to dwell on those thoughts right now being in bed with Clark.

They never cuddle, snuggle or spooned, never. But today they did. He had his head pillowed on the alien’s chest where he could listen to his heart beating and his hand traced random patterns.

One of Clark’s hands was on his hair, fingers carding through the strands while his other one was placed on his waist. Bruce found he was starting to like this, it felt nice to be with Clark in bed with moonlight filtering through the floor to ceiling windows and silence enveloping them. It was one of those peaceful moments they rarely had.

“Bruce.”

“Hmm?” he answered sleepily Clark’s motions lulling him slowly.

“What exactly do you expect of this? Of what we have, I mean. Do you ever… do you ever want it to be more?” he asks softly.

Bruce stays quiet, he was afraid this might come eventually. He obviously had thought about it, about what this was for him and what his expectations were. In the end he had concluded that he was content with how things were right now, not really having the time for something more. Bruce Wayne was someone he just pretends to be after all. So…

“No,” he lies. “Why?”

“Because I have thought of it,” Clark answers simply and he feared this answer because after that the only thing that can come now is- “I think I… I might be in love with you, Bruce.”

Oh. Oh, no, no, no. this can’t- no. Bruce starts to panic. Shit, holly shit. No.  He sits up abruptly, breaking the contact between them. Contingency plan, _now._

“I appreciate your honesty, really. I can’t talk about it now, tomorrow I have a meeting early and I would like to sleep,” he answers in a rush while he climbs off the bed and walks towards the bathroom. “Please, just… please leave.”

Clark is sitting on the bed now, looking at him in confusion. “What did I say wrong, Bruce?”

He shakes his head vigorously; he inhales deeply to collect himself back. “Nothing, just leave, Clark. Please.”

Something breaks behind Clark’s eyes and he nods, standing up and dressing in a rush. He moves to the balcony door and before flying out Bruce’s window, probably for the last time, he just spares one last open look behind his shoulder at him… and smiles a sad smile.

Bruce’s heart breaks.

\- - -

Back in the present he still lies in his bed at 4 am now, regretting his decision because at the end of the day, Bruce loved Clark too.

After some more tossing around an idea bump into his head, he would call the local news in the morning but for now, a bit calmer, sleep finally gave him truce.

Bruce is in the hall outside, waiting to be told to come in. there is someone with the radio on and the song that was currently playing catches his attention. With an ironic huff and a small sad smile he recognized the song and remembered how he could relate to the lyrics.

_Flashback_

He was in the car one night waiting for Clark to come out of the building and go to his home to have dinner. He was leaning back against the car seat, tie lose around his neck and the radio on.

“Now, here for you fellas… the new single of Aqualung!” the locator announced. Bruce smiled because he liked the band.

_To fill the space, the space you made for me_

_Try to be the one you want_

_Try to be the way you want_

_And maybe I could be the one you need_

_If you’d only show me_

_Show me how to live and bear the weight…_

Oh. Oh hell, Bruce turns up the volume and listens carefully. This song, these lyrics… it’s like if they were talking to him directly because, yes it is easier to lie. He is used to lying, he has lied all his life, to the press, to the people that calls themselves his friends, to Alfred sometimes and he lies to himself everyday. And he lies to Clark too…

His thoughts are interrupted when the passenger’s door is suddenly opened and Clark is getting in.

“Hey, how was your day?” he asks as a greeting.

Clark smiles at him, eyes crinkling behind those glasses of his. “Good, lots of work as usual. What about you?”

Bruce sighs and plasters a small smile. “Fine.” A lie.

_End of flashback_

_It’s easier to run; it’s easier to never have look you in the eyes_

_It’s easier to lie, easier to lie._

Yes, to lie might be easier but he will never get what he wants lying, not anymore. Love does not deserve lies, love is pure and honest and Bruce was ready for that.

“Mister Wayne, you can come in now.”

He inhales deeply and walks into the room.

¨¨

Clark was making some breakfast, it was a Sunday, 8 o’clock in the morning, his heart still beating inside his chest. He was doing better really; it hurt a little tinsy bitsy less each day. He was about to flip his hotcake over on the pan when a text buzzed on his phone.

It was Lois’; _Smallville!!! U gotta turn on Gotham’s news. ASAP!_

He ignores it.

Another one comes in a second later: _CLARK! Have u done it?!_

A new one: _BRUCE FUCKING WAYNE JUST SAID HE LOVES YOU!!_

Yep, he totally ignores those messages, he doesn’t care. Really, he doesn’t.  Did Bruce really think that by admitting on television that he loved him would immediately set things straight? No, he was completely wrong and that just proves how he doesn’t know Clark at all.

So he ignores it all.  If Bruce wants him back his gonna have to work hard for it, and no, admitting his love on television still doesn’t count so shut up.

¨¨¨

Two weeks later Clark is returning home on night after a mission in some planet he really doesn’t remember the name of. He is exhausted and the only thing he wants to do before crashing his bed is having a long, nice and warm bath in his too small bath tub.

He closes his apartment door and leans against it heaving a sigh. He hadn’t talked to Bruce nor heard of him since that day he appeared on television. Maybe this was for the better, his life was already complicated enough so he didn’t need the extra package of complexity that Bruce Wayne (aka Batman) represents. Clark rubs a hand against his face and sighs again before separating from the door and walking towards the small kitchen for a glass of water.

He was grabbing the jug of water when a rustling of fabric from behind him stilled his motions.

“Clark.”

He stays there, with the jug still in his hand staring wide-eyed at the counter in front of him because unbelievably as it was, it was Bruce’s voice- _Bruce’s voice…_ He jerks upright and places the jug on the counter before risking dropping it and turns around to glare at the other man.

“What the hell are you doing here, Bruce? I should ask _how_ did you get in here but well, you own the building so that is not surprising,” he says, folding his arms and still glaring.

“I… I just wanted to see you,” he answers lowly, his gaze piercing the floor. “Did you watch me on TV, when I was on Gotham’s news?”

Clark huffs and shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. I was probably busy or something, why? Did you talk about some new business or something that should be of my interest?”

Bruce’s gaze came up, tentatively looking at him. “Don’t be like that, Clark. I’m trying here.”

Clark snorts. “Trying? What exactly are you trying, Bruce?”

“To get you back, to tell you how I feel,” he answers.

“Maybe it’s too late for that now, Bruce. Maybe you started trying too late.” Clark answers seriously.

Bruce shakes his head in disbelief. “You said you loved me.”

Clark shrugs. “So? The fact that I loved you doesn’t mean I was going to wait for you forever. Especially after seeing your reaction to my confession, what were you expecting, really? That if you had decided to try a year from now I’d still be here? Maybe I’d have if you had given me the smallest hint that you could love me back. Instead you pushed me away and ceased all communication between us and yet you expected that I’d be waiting for you with open arms.”

Bruce gives a small nod. “Yes.”

Clark laughs a horrible humorless laugh. “Sorry to disappoint but no one gets everything they want, not even you. And if you were hoping to win me back going on TV was a bad idea, you should have known better. Now if you don’t mind, I just got here from a mission and I’m exhausted. You can let yourself out, obviously.”

Bruce didn’t reply or made any move to leave so Clark sighed and unfolded his arms then turned around to pour his glass of water when suddenly he feels arms wrapping around him. One was across his chest and the other around his waist, pressing him closer to Bruce’s body. The man’s face was buried against his nape, probably embarrassed with his display.

“Please don’t let it be too late, please Clark. Please…” he feels breath ghosting against his skin and he tries in vain to suppress the shiver that runs down his spine. “I was stupid and selfish and I’m sorry, I just- I’m scared Clark, scared of letting you love me and of me loving you and then of you hurting me or me hurting you. Don’t let it be too late,” he whispers this last part and then Clark feels him trembling. “I love you,” he feels it more than hearing it but it has the same effect.

He stays still for a moment longer, still in shock because Bruce had never showed this much affection, had never hugged him like this, hell hadn’t hugged him in any way really. So after a moment he shakes himself and smiles a little, places his left hand over the one Bruce has around his waist and with the other one reaches behind him to place it against Bruce’s head and cards his fingers gently through his hair.

“This is all I ever wanted Bruce, simple as this confession. You didn’t have to go on TV and say you loved me, I’m not that kind of guy,” he answers and then takes a deep breath and turns around on Bruce’s arms. “Do you think I’m not scared too? Love is always scary Bruce, but that’s the beauty of it, well part of the beauty. I’m scared as hell of this, of letting myself love you, _you_ but at the same time I wouldn’t change it for the world. You are one of the most extraordinary people I’ve ever met and I’m willing to give you another chance but in this there is no ‘three makes the charm’ so I would advise you not to screw big time again.”

Bruce was staring at him wide-eyed, mouth slack and eyes shinny. He was so beautiful at that moment, so open and vulnerable. Clark lets out a small laugh and shakes his head. Bruce regains a bit of control and smiles too. “So, this means you still love me?”

Clark chuckles. “As if I could stop loving you, even if I tried.”

Bruce’s smile widens. “Good.”

And then he kissed him. No more running, no more lies.

Only Love.

Forever only Clark.


End file.
